


Swimming in the Flood

by badbromance



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbromance/pseuds/badbromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the first time since 2003 that neither Johnny or Evan were on the podium at nationals...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimming in the Flood

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to azrielen for the beta. I know the timelines are fuzzy, but none of this happened anyway :D

It had been a long, shitty day.

Johnny, preoccupied with his phone, didn't notice that someone was standing in front of him.

He was scrolling through texts and Twitter in a last ditch effort to take his mind off of everything, which was hard, as he could still hear the crowd and feel their excitement. The difference was, none of it – well, except for his five minutes of fame – was for him. There were young skaters on the ice, their unbroken bodies and hopeful expressions sliding seamlessly into the spots left vacant by the Diva Ice Queens. Though he had been expected to be sad, he instead felt utterly wrecked.

Which was, of course, the perfect time to run into Evan.

"Um..."

Johnny looked up from his phone and tried to give Evan the blankest expression he could manage. "Evan." He looked about as lost as Johnny felt and for a moment – a really brief moment – Johnny felt a sense of connection.

"I, like, didn't know you'd still be here," Evan said, fumbling with the tie in his hand.

Johnny buried his hands in his jacket. "Yeah, I—we fly out tomorrow." He watched as Evan looked back towards the direction of the arena.

"Today was just--"

"I know," Johnny said, and took a deep breath. "I'm happy for Ryan, though. Well, and I kind of wish Jeremy had imploded last year."

Evan smiled a little, just a hint. "It was, like, nobody knew what to do without us there."

The conversation, such as it was, paused then. It was cold, and dark, and Johnny wondered what Evan actually wanted. He could have easily just walked past him to the elevators. It had been a long time since Johnny had been around him without anyone else around, and it always made him tense and nervous. He didn't like feeling either of those things, especially after being all emotional. "Was there something you wanted?"

"No," Evan said, all too quickly. "I just saw you, and... I don't know."

Johnny rolled his eyes; oh, Evan and his weirdness. "I wish I could get out of here tonight," he said, looking up at the sky. "Or get wasted. A drink sounds good."

"Yeah." Evan fidgeted, peering over his shoulder again. "Sure."

Johnny blinked at him, putting a hand on his hip. "Sure, what?"

"Oh. Uh. The drink?"

"Evan, I didn't ask you to get a drink with me," It maybe sounded bitchier than he intended, but he was too tired to behave. It was funny watching Evan work it out; his face went from almost unguarded to... was that embarrassed?

"Forget it. I need to get back to my room and pack anyway." He turned away from Johnny, and started to walk away.

"Wait," Johnny said, before he could stop himself. "Fine, but where?"

He went back to fiddling with the tie, and Johnny noticed that the top buttons on his shirt were open. "There's a mini bar in my room."

Johnny just stared at him. That was dangerous territory. The last time Johnny was around him in a hotel room... well. "I don't know."

"There, like, isn't anywhere else to go. It's late. I didn't mean like... that."

Evan's voice was quiet, and Johnny just hoped he wouldn't regret this. "Yeah, all right."

The walk to Evan's room was just a shade past uncomfortable. It was weird, because this was Evan, who was supposed to be somewhere eating a 40 dollar salad with Vera Wang. Instead, he was opening the door, turning on the light, looking back at him as if he'd just remembered Johnny was actually there.

Now that he actually _was_ there, Johnny felt, well, unsettled. Unsteady. Maybe he shouldn't have given in and just gone back to Tara and Eric. Neither of them would actually believe him if he told them where he was, so he didn't bother. "So."

"So," Evan said, while lining up tiny, plastic bottles of vodka and whiskey on the desk. "Take whatever you want."

"You really know how to sweet talk a girl." Johnny grabbed the vodka, and a can of cheap orange juice. He didn't know where to sit, so he just propped himself up against the wall with his tacky excuse for a drink. Evan chose a light beer – of course he did – and it was.... awkward.

Well, he could talk to him about the competition, but he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about that. He could... what? Ask him about his life?

"I feel so old," Evan said, breaking the silence for him. "Like, I know we're not old. Ryan is older than you are. But when you start to hear people saying that this kid is the next Evan Lysacek... I guess I'm still not done being, like, the original." He hung his jacket over a chair, and went to sit on the foot of the bed.

Johnny eyed the bed. It was a big bed, but there was still the fact that Evan was sitting on it. Oh, whatever. He took his drink and went to sit on the opposite corner. The chair would have been better, in hindsight, but he'd just look like a bitch if he moved now. Not that he cared what Evan thought, but—fuck he was losing it. "I don't know that I could handle more than one of you."

Evan's lips quirked into a grin before he took a long pull from his beer. "This is weird."

" _You're_ weird."

"That was such a mature comeback!" He was resting back on his elbows, giving Johnny a lazy smile. He had absolutely no right to look as good as he did, especially after today. Johnny wanted to blame the cheap vodka for the flush in his cheeks, but he was a terrible liar. Maybe if he just ignored the fact that it was Evan. With his dark hair, and stubble, and half-open shirt. Just... it _was_ Evan...

"What are we even doing?" Johnny toed off his boots, setting them aside, and sat perched on the bed.

"I can't believe you came out." Evan didn't answer his question, and turned instead to mirror his position. Well, mostly; Evan couldn't really perch with his 12-foot legs.

"No," Johnny said, pouring more vodka into his glass. "I can't believe people were fucking shocked. I mean, look at me." He knew how he must look at this hour, with no makeup, and his hair all deflated and flopping into his eyes. He still looked the part, though. "I _am_ tired of that being the only thing people ask me about, though I guess it's better than them always asking about you." He raised his glass at Evan.

Evan clanked his bottle into it. "Especially since, like, you're such a little bitch about it."

"Takes one to know one." Johnny swirled the drink around in his glass, watching Evan. "I've been... nicer recently."

Evan leaned forward a bit. "You said I was straight--"

"Which, bitch, you _know_ that's a lie..." Johnny inched forward himself, spilling just a little of his sad excuse for a screwdriver onto to the bed.

"I don't know if I could ever come out like that. Everyone makes such a big deal about it." He seemed much closer, and Johnny had to shift back again to get some breathing room. The glass in his hand teetered precariously, and Evan saved it before it spilled completely. "Careful."

"I'm on a bed with you, buzzed. I think caution has already been thrown to the wind." Johnny smiled at him, because why not? "I'd love to see you come out. Pretending is hard."

Evan seemed at a loss of words for a moment. "You know why I have to do that."

"You don't _have_ to do anything, you just do." They'd had this conversation before, though not for a few years.

Evan set both his bottle and Johnny's glass on the table next to the bed, and turned back. Their knees were practically knocking together at this point. "Okay, but you seriously haven't had sex since, like, August?"

He was good at changing the subject, but Johnny just went with it. "I really haven't. I haven't had time." There was also something about Evan saying _sex_ , a little breathy and shy, that was making him blush again.

"You don't have five minutes?"

"Oh my god, five minutes? Ugh, why even bother if you're not going to do it right? I can get five minutes from my hand.." Johnny waved it in front of Evan's face until Evan caught it in one of his own.

"Did you ever, you know, think about me when you were jerking off?"

Johnny just stared at him. His hand looked so small in the crushing hold Evan had on it, delicate and pale. Or maybe he was just focusing on that so he didn't have to deal with the question. He was too buzzed to try and lie, so he didn't. "I have. More than once."

"Yeah, me too." He still had a hold of Johnny's hand and moved from crushing it to playing with his fingers. He ran his finger over the black nail polish, over his knuckles and along the back of his hand. It tickled and he tried to pull back, but Evan held tightly to him again. "Don't."

He shifted around so his knees weren't pressing against Evan's, sitting up on them instead. "Don't what?" Johnny felt dizzy, both from the vodka and from the tension buzzing between them. It had happened before; they've been close, so close to doing something – a kiss, anything – and it never seemed to work out. Johnny was expecting the same, and it was probably for the best.

"Sometimes I just want to kiss you," Evan said, letting Johnny's hand go. "I don't because, like--"

"I don't do relationships?" Johnny figured it kept people away, but he didn't have the time or desire for a boyfriend. Especially one stuffed in his closet next to the _Bolero_ costume.

"I don't either, I don't have time. I don't want a boyfriend, I just... want you. I couldn't before, because we were competing, and um. But I really wanted to." He moved closer to Johnny, pressing a hand against his chest.

It sort of felt like all the air was being sucked from the room. Johnny knew he could leave – _should_ leave – because they could fuck things up completely by having sex. Then again, how much more fucked up could it get?

Granted, it had been a long time since something like this happened, but it never took much if they were alone together. The last time had been 2009 Nationals, when Johnny had thought it was a great idea to try and mend fences with Evan. They'd ended up in a gigglefest outside of Johnny's hotel room, and Evan had—at least to Johnny – looked like he wanted to kiss him. Nothing happened then, but this was why Johnny didn't want to be alone with him to begin with.

That sense of connection he'd felt earlier was stronger now, too. Evan knew how hard the day had been because Evan had been there every year with him.

Johnny didn't even know if he liked Evan all that much, or if he just needed to get to know him better once and for all (probably), but what he wanted was to take comfort in someone who just _got it_. Evan wouldn't have asked him if he were crying because of the award; he would have known it was because he didn't have his skates, and being on the ice felt wrong without them.

Evan was, however, still in the closet. Johnny knew that if anything happened, and that was a foregone conclusion at this point, it would be forgotten and never mentioned again. Which, okay, that was fine; he'd had plenty of casual sex, he knew how it worked. What Johnny didn't know was how he was going to feel when all of that happened.

His skin burned where Evan's hand pressed against him, and he took a deep breath. "This could all go really, really wrong."

"It will," Evan replied, and rested his hands on Johnny's leather-clad thighs. "It will hurt, and like, be really messy later, and we'll be total dicks to each other."

Johnny snorted. "Oh, like that's going to stop us?"

"I'm just keeping it real." He slid his arm around Johnny's waist, nuzzling along his throat.

It felt amazing, and Johnny tilted his neck to give him better access. "You are so obnoxious."

"Look at me."

Johnny did, and found that he was nervous. Evan was right, this was going to hurt. Why did that make it more exciting? "I'm looking."

Evan brought his hand up to cup Johnny's cheek, and pulled him down for a kiss. Johnny felt lit up from the inside out. It was a chaste kiss at first, just a soft press of lips. Johnny wanted to take control, but at the same time, he wanted to be taken by Evan. He loved being adored, and he'd certainly give Evan the chance to do so if he wanted. "Is that all you've got?" he whispered against Evan's lips when they pulled apart for air.

"That was our first kiss." Evan said, and Johnny just blinked at him.

It really wasn't fair of Evan to say stuff like that, when this was... this was just...it was too close to what Johnny didn't want to feel for anyone, least of all Evan. It was silly and romantic. Johnny wanted to be fucked, and he wanted to feel something other than empty after a day of feeling sad all the time. "Will there be a second one?" he said, finally finding his voice.

Evan seemed to be at war with himself. He was all but crushing Johnny's hand in his own again – Johnny didn't notice at first, what with everything else – and he looked as if he wanted to say something. He didn't, thankfully, just pressed his mouth against Johnny's. The second kiss, fueled more by emotion than curiosity, seemed to last forever. Johnny opened his mouth, licking into Evan's, trying to get closer. Evan's hand was now at the small of his back, fingers sliding under his shirt and dragging up his spine. Johnny arched back into it, giving Evan the opportunity to attack his neck with kisses.

Johnny felt rather than saw Evan pull his shirt off and the jangle of his necklace seemed loud in the quietness around them. "Look at you," Evan said, running his hands down Johnny's sides. "You're like a contradiction. Pretty, and still a guy."

Buzzed from both the vodka and hormones, Johnny leaned in and bit Evan's lower lip. "I'm not a girl," he said, pushing Evan's shirttails out of the way before cupping his cock through his pants. "But you don't want a girl right now."

Evan's eyes fluttered closed as he pushed into Johnny's hand. "No, fuck. I don't want anyone else right now."

That was sweet, too, but Johnny had to turn off the part of his brain that melted because of it. "Good." Johnny got to work undoing each and every button on Evan's shirt. He took his time, maintaining eye contact as he did so. His fingers wove in and out of the fabric, dancing over Evan's chest. He was panting by the time Johnny slid the shirt from his shoulders and pressed against him, skin to skin.

"I want, like, I... just--"

Johnny pressed a finger to Evan's lips to keep him quiet. "Whatever you want, just take it." It was easier when he didn't talk, as then he couldn't keep saying stuff that made Johnny's heart hurt.

He pushed Johnny back onto the bed, and Johnny watched as those long, long fingers made quick work of his fly. Johnny had expected a lot of things when he woke up that day, and none of them were that he'd know how the hot, wet heat of Evan's mouth felt around his cock. His toes curled into the bedspread and his breath was torn from his chest in a moan. Evan's huge hands pressed down on his hips at first, keeping him from moving too much, but Johnny was just as strong as he was and couldn't help but push up into his mouth. Evan allowed it then, shattering every nerve in Johnny's body as he grabbed his ass and encouraged him to just _fuck_.

Johnny was close, so close and, as Evan's hand came up to take one of Johnny's own, the gentleness of that against his already raw nerves tore the orgasm right from his body. He hadn't warned Evan, but Evan swallowed all of it before pulling off to press open-mouthed kisses on Johnny's belly. Johnny was panting, boneless and sweaty, but he needed – _wanted_ – to see Evan fall apart for him.

Evan looked like sex itself. His hair was mussed, he had a smear of come on his lip, and his eyes were huge and dark. Johnny grabbed him, licking his lips clean. "Johnny, please..."

"Please, what? What do you want, Evan?"

He seemed unable to articulate what he wanted. Johnny took pity on him, rising up on his knees again. He toyed with Evan's belt (Johnny noticed, distantly, that he had the same one), and got his fly open. They were just about eye to eye, even if Evan had to slouch a little, and Johnny smirked at him as he slid his hand around Evan's cock. It was huge and hard in his hand, and Evan launched into a series of little moaning sounds that made Johnny crazy. "Do you have anything?" Johnny whispered, using both hands now.

Evan seemed to short out a bit, gasping and pulling away from Johnny to grab the bag on the table next to their empty drinks. His hands were shaking, so Johnny plucked the condom from his hands, and rolled it down over his cock. He was about to do the same with the lube when Evan pushed him back. "No, I want to."

Johnny felt Evan's fingers slide over his spent cock, his balls, and finally push inside of him. He raised his knee up, rocking forward against them. "I like a little pain," he said, hoping Evan got the hint. Of course, the pain here was growing less and less physical.

He seemed to understand, moving closer and pressing inside Johnny in one long, deep push. It burned, radiating out to his toes and fingertips, but it was an amazing burn. He caught Evan's face in between his hands, and kissed him again. They both tasted of come, alcohol, and sweat, and Johnny wanted more. "C'mon, bitch."

Evan smirked, pushing back Johnny sweaty hair. "Bossy, aren't you?"

"Well, are you going to fuck me, or do I have to do it myself?" Johnny arched up to prove his point, taking Evan in deeper. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

"I've wanted to fuck you for, like--"

Johnny cut him off again, he didn't want to hear it. He kissed him as if he wouldn't get a chance to again – he probably wouldn't, after tonight – and Evan fucked him a lot more tenderly than he had a right to. It was perfect, and fucked up, and Johnny felt the pain and sadness of the day fading away. It was replaced, of course, by the ache of knowing that they could never be like this forever, but that was okay. Johnny was used to that pain, at least.

All too soon, Evan was tense and coming in his arms, face pressed against Johnny's neck. Johnny felt powerful, and beautiful, and... kind of gross, really, but overall, he felt amazing. They didn't say anything in the moments after, Johnny instead just stared up at the ceiling. He thought – for a moment anyway – that he could just stay there. They could bundle up under the covers, and... _no._

He had to go, and Evan would let him.

"So, like..." Evan said, turning on his side to face him. "Is this where we say it'll never happen again, and vow to never speak of it?"

"I can't see it ending any other way. We knew that. I don't have time, you don't have time, I don't do relationships--"

Evan was the one to cut him off this time. and this time it was just a little kiss. "And I'm not out. I know."

They were quiet again, before Johnny sat up. He had to get out now, or he wouldn't. Evan didn't say anything, just watched as he got dressed. Johnny just felt... raw, emotionally and physically. He turned towards him when he was done, and found that Evan was already standing behind him. Johnny reached out, tracing one of Evan's biceps with his fingertip.

Evan smiled down at him, but it looked like he was forcing himself. "I keep thinking that there must be some way that we could get it right."

"You know there's not." Johnny edged towards the door, needing to break contact again. If he stayed there any longer, he knew he'd just end up back in bed with him again. If Evan were out, it might be different, but that would never happen. "You still have my number if..."

Evan nodded, but Johnny knew that neither of them would call. It was just as well. Johnny squeezed Evan's hands, and opened the door.


End file.
